


secret garden.

by ansutazu



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 19:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13794156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ansutazu/pseuds/ansutazu
Summary: if you wait a little more, you’ll see something great and amazing is planted inside. // keichi one-shot.





	secret garden.

**Author's Note:**

> "is that oh my girl" it absolutely is. hewwo i'm sleepy and i don't know why eichi breaks out in french for two words but he does. anyway, keichi

The Tenshouin gardens were filled to the brim with unparalleled bittersweet nostalgia, childhood memories left fondly in the heart that take no time to recall and look back to, of times in which the roses were painted a vibrant, noticeable shade of a mischievous blue, of times in which the plans they would scribble gleefully on pieces of paper perfectly dictated the arrangements and desires the heir wanted for his upcoming funeral, though the date of the occasion remains ever fickle, wavering and keeping their plans at bay. It was a place in which moments they held dear would often take place, flashbacks of laughter and fighting and musing hiding behind the bushes, shrubs, and flowers that were grown on those grounds, in the fountain and the benches that surrounded it, along the stone path that weaved its way in out out of certain areas of the gardens, and just about every nook and cranny of that place that tipped the blonde into a high-spirited, teasing state.

And so, with just about any idea he’d gotten before, he gets up from his spot in the green grass where he and Keito were busy toiling away at student council work the vice president had _insisted_ they worked on over the weekend. The papers that used to be in his lap ruffle in the slight wind as Keito scrambles to pick them up, already showing off an incredulous look at Eichi stretches his arms and legs, turning around to face his stick-in-the-mud childhood friend with the blue skies and ever-bright sun showcased behind him.

“It’s the _spring season_ , Keito!” He throws out his arms in a dramatic manner, smiling with his usual hints of mischief dripping from the appearance of his upturned lips. “New life is being breathed back into this earth — flowers busy themselves with a fashion show to present their finest colors, the cherry blossom trees bud and spread their petals like wings, and everything becomes all the more refreshing in this _printemps beau_. And your idea of spending such a wonderful and exhilaratingexperience is doing paperwork? Surely even someone with an artistic eye like you can see the beauty in looking at beauty itself. Come on, let’s take a break and take a walk through the gardens like old times, Keito…~”

“I’m sorry — what?” Keito blinks, sharp green eyes situated pointedly at the blonde’s own gaze, a rather persistent and familiar look of annoyance plastering itself onto his face so that his brows scrunch together slightly, angled down with his exasperation, mouth in its all-too prominent scowl and glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose with a finger when the signal of his upcoming lecture had been heard through his sharp, slightly frustrated breath. “I don’t think I should have to go over as to why I’m being so _obstinate_ about your spontaneous whims. Time is of the essence, especially for you, Eichi — if you continue to act as childishly as this, then — ”

“Nope, nope — I’m not listening to your lectures, at least not right now. Let’s play a game instead ~ !” Eichi leans down, tugging on Keito’s arm with as much energy as he could muster from within the confines of his weak body; it was such a shame that he couldn’t pull him up completely, couldn’t bring his childhood friend up to his feet with sheer force alone, so his whining and pouting will have to do. “Come _on_ — I’m not letting go until you get up. It’s a simple game, something we used to play a children. Surely you would want to play something like that? Let’s play it like we’re those kids from back then.”

What resilience the vice president had, though he continually sighed and looked to the side, trying his best not to cave in until he eventually did so, partly because it seemed impossible to deny this fallen angel’s constant requests, and partly because the tug had started to really wear out his arm, and he just wanted Eichi to stop doing it. He huffs a bit, rising to his feet and brushing off the dirt on his pants as a result of sitting on the grass, his pointed stare snapping to Eichi with a look that seemed to show just how much he couldn’t comprehend Eichi’s impulses just as much as he couldn’t comprehend _why_ he kept going along with them (but that’s partially a lie — he knows deep down that he’s devoted to watching that pen write his friend’s story up until the very end).

“Okay, okay. Just one round of it, though, and we get back to work.” Keito raises an eyebrow, all the games from their childhood coming back at once. There were so many to choose from, so many that they fought and wore out, that he couldn’t possibly guess which one Eichi would pick, though he would very much like to try. “So, what is it? If it’s something that you’re using to stall time, I’ll do my best to win easily and quickly.”

“I know, I know — as always, you’re so hung up about work.” Eichi laughs, tapping Keito’s shoulder and taking a step back right after. “Tell me, have you ever faced all your work and thought, ‘I wish I could run away right now?’ Hmm, but that doesn’t seem to be your character. You’re always so stupidly stubborn about things — even if you did, you’d keep working. Well, that’s that. Anyway, you’re ‘it’.”

And just like that, Eichi turns, quickly running away by following the stone path of the gardens. Keito stands for a second, bewildered, before he takes off for his childhood friend, shouting out things like “you didn’t tell me it was a game of tag” and “you’re being absolutely incorrigible, risking your health like that!” He couldn’t believe that such an _idiot_ would start sprinting like that, and, determined to make sure that his choice of game — why did he agree to this, why did he stand up in the first place? — wouldn’t result in him passing out, began chasing him with as much as his legs could take him, stamina built up through three years of work in Yumenosaki’s idol course.

But, of course, Eichi went through the same thing, perhaps even more — his pride, his persistence in becoming the best and radiating idol that he could be pushed him to break through his limits, to points in which he crumpled to the floor, heaving and feeling as if his very composition was falling to pieces, completely out of air and sapped of any energy, shaking and trying to claw his way back onto his feet.

He felt it now, as if hands were ripping apart his chest and his lungs; his breath was sporadic, inconsistent, huffing and puffing in such a ragged way that for a second, he wondered if he would have to forfeit a win due to his health. But giving up was something he couldn’t quite accept, something he wouldn’t _want_ to accept, and he continues to speed through the roses and the tulips and the trimmed bushes shaped like squares and circles and everything else they could think of, trying to evade his childhood friend’s touch.

The game continues for a couple of minutes, Eichi leading Keito through a wild chase throughout the gardens. Colors whiz by as plants and flowers serve as momentary flashes of scenery and audience, the familiar stone path eventually leading them back to the patch of grass that they had been working before, a patch of nature that had, in fact, been situated on top of a hill, a hill that was part of the gardens and led to the lower part of the Tenshouins’ backyards, which was just an wide and large open patch of grass, though the size of it was not too big, not too small — it was just the right height, because when Keito saw Eichi was ready to run down that hill, he lunges forward in an attempt to tag him, sending them both tumbling down that hill in the grass and dirt and fallen sticks and seeds and everything else out in the outdoors.

(If someone took a freeze-frame of the moment, one would find that Eichi had taken a small hop off that moderately-sized hill, and that Keito had the silliest look of concern on his face, mouth wide open as his tag turned into his arms wrapping around Eichi’s torso, making sure to cushion the subsequent fall they were about to take).

They rolled down with a mixture of yelling and laughter filling the air, stopping just a few inches away from the edge of hill in each other’s arms. The tangled mess that they had become was a last-minute decision to make the ride down a little less unpleasant, though now they found themselves _in each other’s arms_.

Eichi’s hair was dishelved, bits of dry leaves sticking to it and he blows his unruly bang out of his face, looking up at Keito that had ended up on top of him. He laughs, patting Keito’s head — his friend’s hair was sticking out like it was his bed-head, and his glasses had somehow miraculously stayed on, though he assumed that Keito made an effort to make sure that they did — and cooing his message of congratulations, struggling to breathe now because there was that weight on him (but he didn’t quite mind, because it was Keito — and besides, he’d always grown a bit breathless when he was even just _around_ him).

That feeling that made his heart beat so loudly in his chest, that made his cheeks turn red and made him think of his childhood friend way too often, was nothing but overwhelming; it was a feeling that squeezed and captivated his heart, that made it hard to breathe no matter what, but it was a warm, powerful love that he didn’t want to ignore any longer.

And so, on that field of grass, shakily regaining his breath from that game of tag, he takes the back of Keito’s head, pulling it closer to him so that he could plant a kiss on the lips that he had set his sights on the moment he found out that he was in love.

His lips tasted as nice as he thought they would, and he smiles.

When Keito finally pulls away, he finds his childhood friend blushing just as red as he was, perhaps even more; the look on his face, once stubborn, had now turned into something that showcased his surprise, though if Keito hadn’t pulled away at all from his kiss, just how surprised was he?

“That was…you beat me to it, you asshole,” Keito finally mutters, and Eichi could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat.

“Does that mean…?”

“It does.” Keito moves a piece of Eichi’s hair out of his face, meeting his gaze firmly, with assurance that spreads warmth throughout the blonde’s entire body. “It means that I feel the same way, Eichi.”

“Ah…ahaha, you’ve won that game of tag, because you’ve caught me, Keito…~”


End file.
